Dead4u

by H E Johnson

  Then I spotted the outfit I’d received yesterday courtesy of “Jackie” aka Lieutenant Novak. I pulled the latex chemise off its hanger and wriggled into it. This was my first experience wearing latex so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Felt cool at first but warmed up quick. Examining the result in the mirror, I threw a high front kick. The material was flexible enough. And I liked the way it rubbed against my skin. But kicking over knee height put my entire crotch on display. A male audience would eat it up, of course.

  And the customer was always right.

  So what could I do? Stitching those black lace gloves into a thong would help but not much. There’d still be significant pubic hair overhang. And it wasn’t hard to imagine DEAD4U’s audience zooming in to catch every microscopic detail.

  Then I had an epiphany. Why not call “Jackie” and demand a refit? Sweet wouldn’t mind. And it would piss Novak off. Extra credit!

  I texted Sweet: “Seeing Jackie for refit. K?”

  The reply was terse and seemingly disinterested. “Fine.”

  Hmm. No suggestion that I call Epstein for a lift. So it was up to me? I quickly ran over the pros and cons of going solo versus getting a lift. Driving there alone would give me a chance to do a little recon. Maybe recruit some outside help. Having Epstein drive me . . .

  Meant having Epstein drill me. With prospects for a violent death approaching, it seemed like a good idea to get laid. Crass yeah. But the biological imperative must be obeyed.

  Fuck or be fucked right?

  I sent the text.

  Door Number Two please. Open fucking sesame.

  ◆◆◆

  Two hours later:

  “Are we still on?”

  I turned my head to face Epstein. It was early afternoon. Sunshine peeking through half-drawn curtains spotlighted us in bed. I felt pretty chill and didn’t want to spoil the mood with talk. Or think about my upcoming fight to the death.

  When I didn’t answer he repeated the question. This time a hairy male thigh rubbed against my cunt lips. Being exquisitely sore I winced but wasn’t particularly bothered. I was feeling too damned good to get serious.

  “On?” I giggled and poked him in the ribs. “You want to get it on AGAIN, boy? Don’t you need like a couple hours or so?”

  He didn’t seem amused. “Stop fooling around Crys. You were the one said you wanted out. Damn it! Have you changed your mind again?”

  McCord had been trying to leave DEAD4U? That was news to me. Or maybe she’d been stringing Epstein along. That fit her profile. Bitch should’ve had “classic sociopath” tattooed across those massive glutes.

  “Just weighing my options,” I said playing for time. “Dress-up is great when you’re a little girl pretending to be Mommy. But a woman has needs.” Pausing to lick my lips I sensed Epstein’s eyes adding me up. “Needs that maybe you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me,” Zeke said softly. A hand slid over my right breast. One finger circled the nipple. As I sighed, he added, “I think I’ve got a handle on those needs of yours.”

  “I’m talking money, Zeke. Financial security. Health benefits. You know: grownup stuff.”

  “So am I babe.” He paused. “You can’t keep fighting in that stupid game forever. Getting out now makes sense.”

  So Epstein knew about Crystal’s plan to ditch Sweet? Well, well. Maybe she’d been serious about running off into the sunset with Epstein. Not a bad idea . . .

  Wait up. Crystal McCord was braindead. After Sunday she’d cease to exist altogether. She wasn’t going anywhere with Zeke Epstein. And neither was I. Dead women didn’t have futures. With luck I’d have a new body and a new life. New to me, anyhow.

  Weirdly, the notion of leaving McCord’s body depressed me. Pissed me off too. But why? Maybe coz Crystal had been a warrior—not a whiner. And I admired her fighting spirit.

  Epstein was still talking. “I got overseas connections. Europe, South America, Asia. We could make a shit ton of cash moving guns and drugs.” His tone was insistent. Wheedling. “You’d be giving orders instead of taking them.”

  “I’ve saved up some money,” I replied, “but not enough to get clear of Santiago.”

  At the mention of Sweet’s name, Epstein’s eyes went cold. Oops! Bad move, Nikita. Men didn’t want to hear about their competition. Picturing other men’s dicks where they’ve stuck their tongues wasn’t a big turn-on. Nope, men enjoyed the fantasy of being exclusive even when they knew better.

  Wait. Weren’t women supposed to be the irrational gender? Duh. Another stereotype going down in flames . . .

  I turned to face him. Let one hand drift casually to the magic zone. Yep. The boy was ready for another go.

  “No worries, Zeke,” I whispered. “I just want us to be safe. Okay?”

  Epstein nodded. A playful grin softened the harsh planes around his forehead and cheekbones. Reaching down to the floor, Epstein fumbled in his pants pockets for a moment before hauling out a square foil package.

  He handed the package to me. It was a “premium brand” condom.

  Epstein yawned and said, “Safety is my middle name Crys.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You want me to help wrap that monster? Say the magic word.”

  “I love you.”

  Shit. Why’d he have to ruin a perfectly nice bang-bang with his emotional garbage? Was I supposed to reciprocate? Was that how Crystal would’ve played this? Coz she hadn’t struck me as the mushy type.

  Or could this actually be the first time he’d fessed up?

  “Those are three words,” I pointed out.

  He made a face. Was he pouting? Spare me.

  “You can’t say it, can you?” he asked. His tone was peevish. “I’m risking my neck for you, but you can’t spit out a simple ‘I love you’? Crys honey what do I need to do to prove myself?”

  This convo was pointless. So I took matters in hand. Literally. Rolled that premium brand cockwrap over a healthy portion of primo penis. No further guidance necessary.

  Hmm. Using sex to distract a man from relationship issues. Sound familiar? Well it worked. To my credit I experienced the teensiest twinge of guilt.

  Not to worry. I’d get over it. I was a pro.

  A thought struck me. Crystal and I shared an aversion to emotional intimacy. Huh. Did I really want to go there? Should I count which quirks and traits I had in common with a coldblooded killer? Uh, nope. I could overthink myself right out of a good orgasm.

  Before getting down to business, I changed the music to a reggae mix and cut the volume. When Epstein made a face, I told him:

  “Ladies’ choice. I need some mellow, baby. Make me feel it.”

  Gangbanged

  Afterward Epstein rolled off and lay panting like a man who’d just run a marathon and wanted to die. I listened to him breathing hard. Part of me wished he’d fall asleep. I didn’t want to deal with more of McCord’s personal shit. The woman was dead, okay? And I had four or five days max left in this brain-vacated body of hers.

  Hopefully.

  A voice crackled inside my skull. “Damn. You had to go there, Nikita.” Griffin sounded sad. “Fucking the help again.” It wasn’t hard to visualize Griffin shaking that smooth-shaven head of his. He added, “Don’t worry. I turned off the monitors. Novak won’t like that, so if you could find out some stuff this time . . .”

  Great. I’d just gotten laid. Still had that nice warm wave washing over me from head to tippy-toes. But I was supposed to play detective? And ruin the buzz? Oh well. No one said life was easy.

  “Zeke?”

  “Crys?”

  “Where’s the next gig?”

  Epstein sat up and looked down at me. His face crinkled into a worried expression. Had I screwed up?

  “Santiago hasn’t given me the word yet,” Epstein said. “You know I don’t get the location till the last moment. Grab team is doing their thing right about . . .” He checked his watch. “Now.” Epstein shrugged. “Same as always.” He shot me anoth
er one of those inscrutable looks. “You know, I was kinda worried when you went missing for three weeks. Maybe next time you could give a heads up if you’re planning to disappear like that.”

  “Worried, Mom?”

  “Me? I got no worries, Crys. But I can’t stop thinking about that cop we killed. If Sweet finds out she was onto you . . .”

  That cop. Me.

  I held up a hand. “Stop. Right now. You’re killing the mood.”

  He chuckled. Bending down he gave me a kiss that started on the lips then deepened into a throat-searing swallow that curled my toes. Coming up for air he said:

  “How’s that mood coming along?”

  I was about to answer when I heard a click and the front door opened. Epstein’s jaw dropped. Jumping up he scrambled for his pants. I rolled off the bed onto the other side and reached for my purse.

  Footsteps. More than one set. Two. No: three. Damn it!

  I fumbled with the zipper on my purse.

  Feet slid softly over carpet. Closer.

  My hand closed around the Glock 19 McCord carried in her bag. Fuck. I didn’t trust trigger safeties. But this was her preferred sidearm so I was stuck with it.

  The intruders stopped outside both bedroom doors. I looked across the bed at Epstein. He held a Glock too. Same model. His was already pointed toward the door.

  I nodded. Pulling the gun out of my purse, I took a couple of slow controlled breaths. Then relaxed. Aimed the muzzle at a point between the two doors.

  Looked like Helga had brought friends to the party this time. That’s what I got for being nice and letting her go. Bitch was going to die this time.

  Except we were outnumbered. Outgunned for sure. Definitely underdressed. At least Epstein had managed to reclaim his pants. All I had was a pearl necklace. There were clothes in the closet and bureau, but getting at them right now didn’t seem like a good idea.

  I checked out the bedroom windows. Crashing through the glass would be easier with a chair to clear the way. Otherwise our chances looked slim to none.

  “I’ve alerted the team,” Griffin said in a tone that strove for calm. “Hold for extraction strategy.”

  Sure. The only way I’d be extracted from this mess was inside a body bag. Thanks a bunch, guys.

  Handle turned on the leftside door.

  I swivelled toward it. Zeke pointed at the other entrance. Telling me that was his. Leftside door swung open slowly. No one stood in the doorway.

  “Crystal?” It was Sweet. He had to be on the left or right side of that door. Shooting through the wall offered fifty-fifty odds at best. “It’s me. Tell Zeke to lay his piece down. Now. He can still walk out of here with his balls intact.” Pause. “Hear me, Zeke? No need for anyone to die today. Throw down your gun and go.”

  I looked at Epstein. He was trembling. Sweat covered his body. The gun in his hand shook.

  Griffin hissed into my brain: “Don’t do anything stupid, Nikita. We need Sweet alive to stop DEAD4U. Otherwise one of his gang keeps it going and we’re back to square one.”

  I said, “Zeke.” He glanced sidewise at me. I continued: “Get dressed and go. Now. While you can.”

  “He’ll kill us both,” Epstein warned. “This is business.”

  I shook my head. “He needs me.”

  “Listen to her, Zeke.” Sweet chuckled. “Bitch is right. DEAD4U is nothing without Madam Crunch. All that murder and mayhem shit don’t cut it without a little sex appeal.”

  Epstein swallowed.

  Sweet snapped, “We’re not waiting out here forever. Do the smart thing, Epstein. I know you’ve been doing Crystal on the side.” He barked a short, mirthless laugh. “We’re in the cyber biz dude! I’ve read every text and email you’ve sent her. Hell, I’ve known about you and Crystal the whole time. Think about that, Zeke. Why didn’t I kill you before? Huh? It would’ve been easy. Hell, I could’ve had Eddie or Feliks do the job if I didn’t want to dirty my hands.”

  “So why didn’t you?” Epstein shouted. Veins popped in his neck. “Why are you telling me this now, Santiago?”

  “You kept Crystal happy. Crystal’s the moneymaker. And I wasn’t going to kill the golden goose was I?” Sweet paused. “But you—you talked her into running out on the crew. Can’t have that, Zeke.”

  My mind went blank. But it woke up fast with Griffin hollering, “Nikita! You KNOW what you have to do!”

  Griffin was right. I knew what needed doing. On the sound system, Jimmy Cliff was singing “Many Rivers to Cross”. Soft. Way too soft . . . I switched back to an old school metal band and maxed the volume.

  The sudden shriek of guitars caused Epstein to flinch. He looked surprised when I shot him in the chest. When he fell, I put the volume back down.

  “Holy shit,” murmured Griffin. “You shot him.”

  Sweet walked into the bedroom. He stood over Zeke Epstein’s crumpled form. The wheelman’s eyes were open. They gazed dreamily up at the ceiling. Sweet turned to me. His expression was sad.

  He said, “Get dressed. Lose the necklace.”

  ◆◆◆

  I took a clean pair of panties from the dresser. In the closet I found ripped black jeans, a green halter-top and comfy leather sandals. I got dressed and tossed the necklace into a drawer.

  When I came out Sweet informed Big Boy and Federov that it was clean up time. The three of them left the house and went out to a white panel van parked in my driveway. From the van’s back they removed a cheap red rug.

  I watched from the living room window. Saying nothing. Feeling less.

  Sweet came back inside. He opened the garage door and let them inside.

  Griffin whispered, “Are you going to be safe Nikita?”

  “Are you fucking serious?” I whispered back. “You assholes put me inside a crew of stone killers with no backup. I’ll be ‘safe’ when every one of them is dead.”

  Griffin clammed up. Good thing for him. I was keeping score and one day soon I’d get my chance to even things up.

  I watched Federov and Big Boy troop inside with the rug. I said hi as they entered. Neither of them answered. Both avoided looking at me. Stifling a sigh, I followed Sweet and his un-Merry Men into the bedroom.

  No one spoke. Big Boy hoisted the body onto the rug. Then he and Federov rolled the body up and hauled the rug back into the van with Sweet holding doors. As they pulled out, Big Boy waved to Sweet out the passenger side window.

  Sweet, standing in the driveway, waved back. I stood behind him like the proverbial little woman. Once the van was out of sight, Sweet turned and took me by the arm.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  Heart 2 Heart

  I returned to the living room. Sweet headed to the kitchen and found where the scotch lived. He poured drinks. Handing me a glass, he raised his and said:

  “Zeke.”

  “Zeke,” I replied, trying to read his face. Sweet seemed sincere. But so did I, right? And I wasn’t so odds were neither was he. Nodding slightly, I added, “And us.”

  We knocked glasses and drank. Sweet sat down beside me on the couch. Very civilized. Totally chill. La-la. Neither of us spoke for a few. We sipped our scotch and stared out the window at a clean suburban street.

  After a couple minutes, he broke the silence.

  “Had to be done,” Sweet told me. He rolled his glass between those big hands, as though warming them with booze. “I know you liked his pretty ass, but you’d have got him killed sooner or later.” Sweet shrugged. “Least you did it fast, babe.” Eyeing my pussy zone, he added, “There are worse ways to go.”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular saint,” I replied dryly.

  “Selling me out wouldn’t have been a smart career move, Crystal. What was I supposed to think, huh? When that Cybercrime cop contacted you, why didn’t you come to me? You should’ve trusted me—me, not Zeke.” Seeing the shock on my face, Sweet went for the kill. “Yeah, I had Feliks watching you. He saw the cop walk into that motel room you rented with Z
eke parked outside to cover your ass. Feliks saw you leave alone so he figured you’d taken care of things.” Sweet stared into my eyes. “What happened, Crystal? You went on a binge after wasting a cop. Why? That would be stupid, and I don’t think you’re stupid.”

  “My turn?”

  Sweet nodded. “Go for it.”

  “Thank you for acknowledging my high IQ. But the truth is I needed to dull the edge a bit. That’s how I’m built, Sweet.”

  He made a face.

  “That cop offered to cut you loose if you ratted me out.” Santiago’s voice was soft. “So how come you didn’t take her up on it? You and Zeke could’ve left and set up shop on your own. Guns. Hijacking. Hell, you two could’ve settled down and worked nine-to-fives. But you kept putting Zeke off. Again: why?”

  “Does it matter? You need Madam Crunch. Not my psych eval.”

  Sweet stared at me. His eyes clouded over.

  “Can I trust you?” he wanted to know. “I don’t want to end up like your piece on the side.”

  I felt my face redden. “Epstein wanted to kill you. I shot him. Any more questions, boss?”

  “Yeah.” His voice sounded jagged. “We still a thing, you and I? Or was all that—everything—just business too?”

  I put my hands to his face. He flinched. Couldn’t blame him for that.

  “You need Madam Crunch—not me,” I stated coolly. “But Madam Crunch isn’t just an actress. She’s a real, honest-to-goodness woman who has needs.” Stroking his face with both hands, I purred, “Make me happy, Sweet Man. Make me happy, I’ll make you rich. That’s what they call a win-win.”

  He licked his lips. Asked what he could do to make me happy. So I thought it over for a couple minutes. Hey it’s not every day a man offers to deliver a load of happiness to a woman. When I told him he didn’t hesitate. Just grinned and got down on his knees. Ahhhh! That felt better than ice cream. In fact it felt so damn fine I completely forgot those pesky nanoplants. Until that is a little voice reminded me I wasn’t doing this happy dance solo.

  “Duck to go?” hissed Griffin. “Blink once for yes. Twice for no.”